


Origin Story

by Heather_Night



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, POV Derek, Post-Series, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 00:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12569200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: It’s a bird…it’s a plane…no, it’s Derek dressed up for a superheroes themed costume party.  Derek is going to have to fight both naughty hunters and kryptonite before he can spend time with the superhero of his dreams.





	Origin Story

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fill for the Trapped Together prompt for Round 8 of the Hurt/Comfort Bingo challenge. It took a bit of a frisky turn so I gave it a Mature rating...Derek is blaming the kryptonite.

Derek couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to be talked into going to the Halloween party. His cousin and Scott had been relentless about his attendance and finally he’d given in.

For one, it was a superheroes themed costume party. Did someone approaching 30 really do this kind of thing? Apparently they did. Or at least he did.

Another point against attending was that he would most likely be the oldest person in attendance. He seriously doubted Chris, Melissa or the sheriff would show up.

On the plus side, Derek had secretly always wanted to dress up like a superhero and because his family wasn’t big on Halloween, he’d never had the opportunity as a child. Now he had both means and opportunity and he was like a kid in the candy store with so many options to choose from. 

Should he be the square jawed Batman with the cool gadgets? Scott had decided to go as Batman, which made Derek wonder if Stiles was going as Robin, Boy Wonder. Hard to imagine.

He’d thought about Deadpool but he didn’t want to wear the full mask. Thor would’ve been fun but he didn’t want to wear a blond wig.

Eventually he’d settled on Superman. 

The blue costume with the red and yellow emblem on his chest…the shield shape containing the snazzy letter S…the red cape. Other than the tights, what wasn’t to love? He’d even gotten the spit curl across his forehead right although he’d never admit to how much hair product he’d used.

Scott and Malia’s apartment never had parking available nearby so Derek parked down the street, locked his newer model Chevy Camaro, and took off down the sidewalk. He kept his eyes down mostly because he didn’t want to be humiliated if anyone saw him in his Superman garb.

The lack of scent stopped Derek in his tracks. Northern California in October usually meant roses blooming again along with tomatoes and zinnias still going strong.

Between one breath and the next, Derek’s knees went weak.

He couldn’t smell anything. 

Wolfsbane.

Derek’s vision darkened at the edges, he staggered, and then went down to one knee on the cement.

He faded in and out, had the sense of motion, and then, finally, silence.

Derek’s eyes blinked open and the first thing he saw was a glowing green gem ten feet in front of him.

He squinted his eyes and read the hand written sign: Kryptonite.

Awesome. A rock coated with wolfsbane and painted to look like Kryptonite sat on a wooden rail backed chair with the Kryptonite sign taped below it.

Fucking hunters and their fucking bizarre sense of humor.

There was a commotion across the wide expanse of…the depot? He was in the large, nearly empty concrete and steel space he’d used as a training facility all those years ago with his new betas.

Two of those betas had died brutal deaths and the third had taken off to foreign soil after Derek had done his best to chase him away. Even though he’d alienated Isaac in some misguided attempt at keeping him safe, he’d known it was a shitty thing to do.

All of his choices were shitty back then. He’d like to think since then he’d been on the path to redemption but sometimes he just didn’t know.

The wolfsbane made it difficult for Derek to think but he refocused, concentrating on the floorshow. There were one, two, three, four, five, yep, six armed guys who Derek assumed were hunters and they were tying down—or was that typing up—another costumed superhero.

Derek’s sense of smell was still on the fritz due to the proximity of the wolfsbane but he recognized the black unitard with blue shoulders, chest emblazoned with a blue bird with its wings expanded to his shoulders.

Nightwing.

When he was a pre teen Derek hadn’t really acknowledged his bisexuality, common in born weres, but he could admit he’d had a crush on Dick Grayson aka Nightwing. 

Unfortunately Derek didn’t know who was dressed up as Nightwing and with the domino covering half of the face, he couldn’t tell who he was looking at.

This Nightwing had very broad shoulders, a trim waist and long legs. The guy was unconscious so it took four of the hunters to hang his handcuffed wrists from some sort of hook dangling from the top of a wooden cross, lashing his body to the wooden structure with ropes.

How long did it take to tie up one person? Maybe it was the effects of the wolfsbane but it seemed to be taking a really long time.

When they stepped back, the hunters left another sign next Nightwing that read: One of you needs to play hero.

What did that even mean?

Nightwing moaned and his dark head lolled on his neck. His muscles flexed and—gulp—Derek realized three things in quick succession.

First of all this guy, Nightwing, wasn’t just tied to a wooden cross structure, he was tied to a Saint Andrew’s Cross, the most common piece of equipment found in a BDSM dungeon. No, Derek didn’t want to dwell on how he knew that although a girlfriend dragging him to see _Fifty Shades of Grey_ might’ve kick started his research into things.

Second, Nightwing had a rocking body. The ropes above, below and crisscrossed between his pectorals highlighted some very nice musculature. The rope across his waist emphasized its tiny size. The ropes between his legs—Derek wanted to rub his eyes, this had to be a hallucination, but his arm wouldn’t work—framed a package that Derek suspected wasn’t just due to the costume’s cod piece and holy hell…

Lastly, the wolfsbane was making Derek horny. 

There were over 250 species of flowering plants belonging to the family Ranunculaceae of which wolfsbane, aconite, monkshood, leopard’s bane, mousebane, women’s bane, devil’s helmet, queen of poisons, blue rocket, take your pick, was just one that had an effect on weres.

He didn’t know if the hunters had just made a lucky pick or if they’d created some porno set and they were taping the fruits of their labor although that didn’t really make any sense because why would someone want to watch—Derek looked down at himself and saw the Superman costume then looked up at Nightwing—two superheroes getting it on.

Seriously? How was this his life?

When Derek had glanced downward, he’d noticed a rope was wrapped around his torso as well. He flexed the muscles in his upper body but the wolfsbane neutralized his superior shifter strength and nothing happened. 

Nightwing let a porno worthy moan spill from his lips and Derek refocused on the man struggling against his bonds.

Some costumes had faux muscles built into the fabric but with every flex and strain, Derek could see that wasn’t the case with this one and Nightwing was lean but nicely muscled.

Derek felt like he was pretty familiar with the physiques of the people in the pack, or even who he considered to be pack adjacent. That wasn’t because he made a habit of scoping out guys’ bodies but clothing got torn when facing off against hunters, and the pack got hurt and needed assistance of which Derek was always happy to supply, so he knew the guy shifting his hips against the pressure of restraints was someone he didn’t recognize.

What was the likelihood of the hunters snatching someone else dressed in a superhero costume when Scott and Malia had been throwing just such a party?

Nightwing gave a full body jerk and got nothing for his efforts except a hiss of discomfort. 

Derek’s attention drifted back to the most likely source of the discomfort, the stunning rope work around Nightwing’s crotch. He wished he had a better angle so he could figure out what they’d done but the rope cinched around the compact waist seemed to hang down in the back (pushed against his asscrack?) before the two ends were passed between the long, shapely legs and then pulled up the front, still split, before looping around the waist rope. With some threading between the existing lines and further looping at the waist, the rope made a pretty diamond shape. 

Of course the diamond shape framed the bulge Derek was having trouble pulling his attention from.

Derek hadn’t been this turned on in, well, what seemed like forever and he didn’t know if it was the effects of the wolfsbane or the wriggling, bound body.

“Crap. That hurt.” Nightwing’s voice was low and hoarse and Derek was pretty certain he recognized it. But from where?

“Derek?” Nightwing croaked. That croak was totally familiar.

“Stiles?” Derek’s jaw dropped.

Of course he knew Stiles’s body had matured, everyone in Scott’s pack had since he’d first met them, but Derek never would’ve guessed those graphic tee’s, flannel shirts and jeans hid a body this eye popping.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, voice a little clearer this time although it was still husky.

It used to shame Derek, the level of caring Stiles showed him although it was typically through gestures instead of words. Over the years Stiles had been a comforting presence in Scott’s pack for him. Someone he could count on even if he wanted to tell the other guy to quit running his mouth or to stay behind so he didn’t get hurt. Despite Stiles’s current predicament, his first thoughts had been for Derek.

Derek shook his head to clear it. “There’s wolfsbane right in front of me. I haven’t been able to do anything except sit upright since I woke up here.”

Well, he’d been able to perv on Nightwing aka Stiles but Derek wasn’t going to admit that out loud. He was having enough trouble admitting it to himself.

“You’re not like going to die, right?” Stiles’s voice sounded very small, even frail. 

Derek pulled his attention up to his face and sure enough, Stiles was worrying his lower lips with his teeth. If the other guy had been conscious and doing that little maneuver before, Derek would’ve totally identified Nightwing as Stiles as that was a trademark mannerism.

Wait, Stiles hadn’t been conscious. “Forget about me. Are you okay? You were really out of it when they brought you in.”

“Ugh. They shot me with a dart. I’m okay now.” Stiles looked upward, frowning. His chest was moving up and down at an increased pace. “Except for these stupid handcuffs. I might be able to unhook them. We need to get you away from the wolfsbane.”

Stiles seemed to be working himself into a panic, either because of the situation he found himself in or because he thought Derek was in danger, and a panicked Stiles was unpredictable. Before Derek could caution him, Stiles lunged upward, trying to pull his cuffs off of the hook.

There was a strangled yelp followed by a snap and then ominous silence. Stiles’s body sagged, held upright by his cuffed wrists on the hook and the various ropes.

“Stiles? Damn it, Stiles, answer me!”

Stiles was hurt. His vulnerable human pack mate needed him.

Every protective urge Derek had ever felt for Stiles burst to the fore and with a surge of energy, he snapped the rope around his arms and chest and climbed to his feet. With one strong snap of his leg, he sent the chair, with Kryptonite, skittering across the length of the building, far enough away to lessen the effects of the wolfsbane.

It happened in a blur but Derek successfully fought off the hunters as they ran into the room, a broken arm or leg here and there, but he didn’t kill or permanently maim anyone, before the adrenaline started to wane.

Stiles still slumped against his bonds but the rope work was no longer sexy. His friend was hurt.

With gentle hands, Derek pulled the cuffed wrists from the hook and snapped the metal apart, freeing Stiles’s arms. The human’s left wrist was already swelling; most likely this was the snap Derek had heard. Derek cut through the ropes with an extended claw on his index finger, taking care not to accidentally slice the human. When he’d dealt with the last of the rope wound around Stiles’s mid section and chest, he caught his friend as his weight slumped forward.

Derek swept Stiles into his arms and then headed for the exit. Stiles nuzzled his face into Derek’s neck and groaned. He held the injured left wrist against his chest protectively with his right hand. “What the hell did I do?”

The smell of salt and the moisture against his neck alerted Derek to Stiles’s tears. Rubbing his chin against the soft brown locks, Derek comforted the injured man with a soft shushing noise. 

Once they exited the depot into the mild evening air, Stiles shivered. The fresh air at least seemed to revive the other guy and he lifted his head from Derek’s shoulder. 

Derek no longer smelled tears but with most of Stiles’s face covered by a domino he couldn’t fully assess his friend’s condition.

The area hadn’t changed noticeably so Derek headed down the street toward the intersection where there used to be a payphone. It was still there, an oddity in this digital age, but Derek hadn’t had a place to stow his cellphone and Stiles’s costume was equally tight and left nothing to the imagination so Derek knew he no longer had his cell; the payphone, if it worked, would be a lifesaver.

After settling Stiles on the bus stop bench, Derek placed his collect call. Derek only had two numbers committed to memory and fortunately Scott’s was one of them. The other wouldn’t have done him any good because Stiles was with him.

Huh. Having Stiles’s number memorized seemed like an indicator of his feelings, feelings he hadn’t even realized he harbored. If nothing else he trusted the other guy.

His alpha picked up and Derek waited for the mechanical voice to inquire if Scott would accept the charge from Derek.

Finally they connected. “Derek, what’s going on? Neither you or Stiles showed up and you were both supposed to be here three hours ago! Everyone is out looking for you.”

Derek was heartened Scott had noticed his absence. There was a time Derek didn’t think his disappearance would rate more than mild interest but now, with the pack, he had people who cared enough to look for him.

“Hunters took us but we got away. We’re down the street from the old depot in the warehouse district. We left the hunters inside, banged up but alive.” Derek paused in his succinct explanation to gather his thoughts.

Scott jumped in before he could continue. “Are you and Stiles okay?”

“For the most part although I think Stiles’s wrist is broken.” Derek kept the majority of his attention on the road, vigilant for trouble. His attention kept wandering back to Stiles, bent over his injured left limb.

Scott swore. “Okay, Jordan and Lydia are almost there. I’ll meet you at the ER.”

Maybe he was still under the wolfsbane’s influence because Lydia’s Lexus Rx hybrid pulled up in front of the payphone, Jordan out of the passenger seat before it even came to a complete stop, startling Derek. 

“Stiles, are you okay?” The hellhound rushed toward the bench and Derek dropped the phone from his hand, moving to intersect his approach.

A noise originating from his chest rumbled and spit from his mouth.

“Easy, easy.” Jordan stopped moving, hands up in the air.

Stiles lifted his head and made eye contact with Derek, his mouth dropping open. “It’s okay, Derek. I’m okay.”

Face heating up, climbing down his neck, Derek’s body relaxed. He shrugged sheepishly and stepped out of the way. It was embarrassing because Derek was having trouble controlling his responses. He’d like to blame it on the wolfsbane but he suspected a different cause.

“Derek, do you want to help me get Stiles settled in the backseat?” Jordan was assisting Stiles to his feet and Derek moved to his injured side, avoiding contact with his arm but bracing his back in case he felt woozy.

Jordan gave Derek a searching look but kept any questions or comments to himself.

Lydia held the back door open, clucking over Stiles’s injury but not crowding him. The dynamic between the two friends who had once dated was more that of siblings these days. Derek didn’t know if that was out of deference to Jordan or how to account for their closeness but Derek had never scented anything sexual between them.

Looking back, it was odd he’d even noticed such a detail. Things were adding up, making a case for more than feelings of friendship even before Derek admired Stiles’s smoking body.

Derek stayed glued to Stiles’s side, going so far as to secure the seatbelt around the other man. Jordan updated Scott who had headed to the depot to deal with the hunters while Lydia navigated them toward the hospital.

“Hey, Derek, how did you get away from the wolfsbane?” Stiles whispered.

Derek couldn’t really account for the actual mechanism but he understood the catalyst. With a shrug, Derek promptly answered, ““You were in trouble and needed me.” 

Quiet met his answer and Derek worried he’d made a mistake in sharing that information. 

Derek’s sense of smell was fully functioning again and he could scent something different coming from the human.

Arousal?

Huh.

Derek didn’t exactly want to go into the whole fully evolved werewolf abilities as that would probably trigger a Twenty Questions session. Stiles was insatiable when it came to gaining knowledge.

Derek paused. Maybe Stiles was insatiable in other ways, too.

“So this is that whole evolved werewolf state thing, right? Thank you for saving me. And thank you for never speaking of the whole whatever the hell was going on back there with that hinky set up.” Stiles had to be feeling better because he was spitting out sentences in rapid-fire style.

Derek thought Stiles had been too busy panicking over regaining consciousness and finding himself handcuffed and tied up but apparently he’d been aware enough to pick up on some of the stranger aspects of the evening.

The signals he was receiving told Derek the other guy might be on the same page as him so he took a deep breath and blurted, “I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t discuss it with anyone else if you agree to go out on a date with me.” 

“What are you two whispering about back there?” Lydia’s sharp voice interrupted them.

“Nothing, Derek was just checking on my wrist.” Stiles’s voice rang with sincerity but she stared in the rearview mirror for longer than Derek was comfortable with. She smiled that coy smile Derek found aggravating and hummed to herself.

Jordan asked her a question and Stiles took advantage of her distraction, grasping Derek’s hand with his right hand, giving it a squeeze. “Yes to your question. Oh, and Derek?”

Derek let the warmth of Stiles’s reply wash over him. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself but he had a really good feeling about this relationship.

They were friends with plenty in common, believe it or not, and they also had newly discovered attraction between them. That was far more than any other relationship Derek had been in before.

Gripping Stiles’s hand he gave it a squeeze back. “What?”

Stiles leaned closer. “That curl is driving me insane.”

Laughter escaped from Derek’s mouth. He loved the unpredictable things that popped out of Stiles’s mouth and enjoyed his sense of humor.

Derek slid closer, cuddling Stiles against his side. “Well you ought to know, even with your broken wing, you’re my favorite Nightwing.”

Stiles laid his head on Derek’s shoulder.

Halloween hadn’t panned out at all like Derek had expected. He couldn’t even complain about Scott and Malia’s stupid superhero themed party. Without even making it into the party, it had somehow brought him and Stiles together.

As far as origin stories went, Derek thought he could live with it.

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my quick Halloween themed romp. I found the holiday to be an excellent excuse for throwing Derek and Stiles into a situation where they could superficially explore their attraction...and where we could enjoy their costumes.


End file.
